Scarred
by Foofer
Summary: Outcast. That's what I've been labeled ever since I was 7. Getting caught in a burning building, with no way out, will do that to you. I was the lucky one, actually, because I'm still alive. Paul/OC. Imprint story.


**HPOV**

Outcast. That's what I've been labeled ever since I was 7. Getting caught in a burning building, with no way out, will do that to you. I was the lucky one, actually, because I'm still alive. My parents, however, were killed from the constant inhalation of smoke with no oxygen. I still remember that day…

_The thick smell of smoke woke me up from my peaceful dreaming. I open my eyes, not to see my deep blue walls or crisp white ceiling, but to see a black fog covering me and my whole room. All black and only black. My focus suddenly switches to a loud crash and a womanly scream from across the hall. "MOMMA!" I screamed, all to no avail. The smoke was choking me, keeping me from screaming as loud as I knew I could. Sirens outside came screeching closer and closer as they came to rest outside my house._

_It was fire, it had to be. I knew enough from my second grade fire safety lesson to know that smoke meant fire, and if there was fire, you had to get out. I screamed as I watched the fire lick up my door and crawl across the floor in a hurried pace. There was nowhere to go. My watering eyes looked all around for an exit, but there was only a window. I could've jumped out, gotten to safety there, but the window was too thick and it was right next to the door in the corner. I curled into a ball backing as far away from the flames as I could. My vision started to fade as I saw a figure at the window. The flames had finally reached me, and licked at the right side of my face, and then there was water; plenty of water to drown the fire. And then black._

That day, that fateful, scary day that took the life of my parents has scared me both mentally and physically. I know have a burn scar on the right side of my face, reminding me of that day, and keeping me an outcast to everyone; a social pariah. No one knows what happened to me, and no one cares to. No one's gotten close enough to the freak to get to know her. Thankfully, though, I've finally been adopted. A plastic surgeon and a fire fighter…go figure. This leads me to where I am now, unpacking my bag in a new home in Forks, Washington.

"Hannah, dear, dinners ready!" Sandy said. She is my new "mother", the plastic surgeon, though I will never let her replace my real mom, ever.

"Coming!" I hurriedly shut my luggage and stepped down the many stairs on our large winding staircase, only to come to a stop before the large kitchen. Everything was shining and clean. Stainless steel covered the utensils and appliances, while beautiful granite covered the counters. There was an amazing smell coming from the pot sitting on top of the seemingly brand new stove.

"I hope you like spaghetti." Sandy stated, looking sheepish.

"Yeah, I love spaghetti." I said, trying to reassure her.

"Well then, sit and enjoy!" She seemed more confident in her creation, now that she knew I would like it.

I sat at the table with her, and we engaged in a little small talk. I soon found out that I would be going to the La Push reservation high school, due to the fact that our house is on the outskirts of Forks, and is more close to the Reservation high school, than it is to Forks High.

"That's fine, I'm sure it's going to be just the same experience." I looked down at my plate, twirling noodles as I said this. It's not like I'm going to make any friends or anything. I'm just trying to get through school so I can get a job. No time for relationships, no time for friends, just time for studying. That's all I'll have to do anyway.

"I know it's hard, honey," she said after seeing my face fall a little at thinking of my total lack of social life, "but things will get better. I have a good feeling." She reassured with a smile. I couldn't help but have some hope. Things can only go up from here, can't they?

**PPOV**

Things can't get any worse. Not only am I a freaking werewolf, but I'm also not allowed to talk to any of my old friends. You see, I'm the most popular guy in Res High. Not like it's that hard, when there are only 200 people in the whole school, but my uncanny ability to charm ladies with my winning smile and bad boy personality have gotten me the label of player. Not that I'm complaining or anything, because I do love females. And now that I'm a werewolf I'm even more attractive, which makes fighting off the girls clinging to me right now, even more difficult.

"Ladies, please." I said as I walked as fast as I could to History, my first period.

"Paul! Come back! What about all we had together?" Jenny, the perky brunette that I slept with one time who thinks we're soul mates. I think not.

"Jenny, we didn't have anything together. Now leave me alone." I slipped into Mr. Reg's class right after I said this, leaving me with a smooth get away. No one was in the room yet except for a rather scrawny looking guy sitting in the back corner. I paid him no attention as I slipped into the seat in the other corner.

The class slowly filed in and filled up the remaining seats around me. The class was boring, of course. It WAS history after all. I was doodling in my notebook when the two girls in front of me started whispering.

"Have you heard about the new girl?" The taller one asked. I have no idea what her name is, because I've never seen her before in my life.

"Yeah. I saw her today, she has like, this huge thing on her face. I don't know what it is but I hope it's not contagious." The shorter one giggled, like she made some amazing joke.

"Good thing ugly isn't contagious." The taller one said, laughing too, as if she was somewhat funny. Their conversation started to bother me. What did they know about the new girl? Just that she looked different. I know Sam's wife, Emily, looks different but she's one of the nicest people I know. I let their conversation go, though, because I wasn't supposed to talk to people anyway.

The class passed by quickly. I think they were talking about Christopher Columbus, though I could be wrong. I stepped out into the hallway, hearing whispers as I walked to my next class, but I ignored it.

I was early for English too, so I sat in the far corner from the door. I just people watched as they came in. Some were laughing, some were just normal, others came in with their friends, nothing unusual. The last person that came through that door, though, had to have been the new girl those two girls were talking about. She came in with her head down, but I could see her right cheek very clearly. A large scar covered the area from her cheekbone, to where the neck of her t-shirt started. I guess she saw me staring because she looked up from the floor she was walking on, and looked directly at me. My heart immediately started pounding in my chest, my breath coming out in gasps. She was beautiful; more beautiful than any model, in any country, anywhere. How was I blessed enough to see her beautiful eyes? _Oh her eyes…_ They looked just like ice. With my enhanced sight I could see her eyes were a sharp white/grey/blue, outlined with navy. **(a/n: picture of her eyes on profile) **. I swear I could look in those eyes forever and ever. I loved this girl I barely knew; I would never look at any other girl the same. I only had eyes for this beauty. She had all of me, and she hasn't even spoken to me.


End file.
